


Wait for it, Ash. Wait for it

by Qekyo



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash Lynx Lives, Ash Lynx Needs A Hug, Eiji and Ash deserve the fucking world, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Might do a series if I'm feeling it, Near Death Experiences, One Shot, Past meets future kinda?, Self-Indulgent, The fix it time travel fic done differently, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qekyo/pseuds/Qekyo
Summary: Ash Lynx is familiar with death.But instead of actually dying in the warm lighted library of his childhood while awaiting death's arms. He wakes up in a bed too soft for him and a house too big for one person.He see's an older, less jaded yet still hardened Ash Lynx in the kitchen of said too big house in an apron that say's 'kiss the cook' with a similar shocked expression. And he has some words to say to his younger self about happiness.(The somewhat time travel fix it self indulgence that I wrote to cope with the ending)
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 17
Kudos: 179





	Wait for it, Ash. Wait for it

**Author's Note:**

> Skksks i should be updating my other fic but I just finished banana fish and it HURTS. So heres the self indulgence fic that I always wanted. I made this really for my own personal benefit. 
> 
> I honestly don't rlly know whats going on.
> 
> Kinda based on the song Wait For It from the musical Hamilton.

There is some sort of interest death and fate have in Ash Lynx.

It's like a swift brush of air that sweeps by on a cold winter day. It's the feeling of the tear stained paper he clutches so desperately in his hand, sharp and dull. It's the release of breath he lets out when the wound on his body heavily burns and swells in pain. Death is playing him in its hands like a puppet on a string, or a fish casting bait.

Fate wouldn't be all too different. It was a constant thing in his life. Ash theorizes that he was blacklisted by God himself and that's why Fate always seems to hate him so much. His life is a downwards rollercoaster that always seemed to keep going further into the depths of despair and agony. He was only 17. He was also only 8 when he was first touched, and when he killed his first man. He was only too young, but Fate didn't seem to play any favoritism with anyone despite age.

It's all too poetic in fact. He doesn't intend it to sound like a sonnet, maybe it's the books that Blanca used to read when he was younger. The tall, broad chested man always did have a fascination with dramatically worded literature that makes Ash's head hurt by how utterly complicated it sounds. Yet, death is like that. Death seems to have a way that makes it so Ash always has a hard time reaching it.

_"He doesn't exist for your salvation."_

Blanca's words play in his head like a mantra, ringing and hissing into his ear. Like poison, it clogs his throat and makes his eyes water in pain, or maybe it was just that stab wound in his abdomen that was doing that. He stumbles on the sidewalk, clutching the area where Lao had penetrated him. His vision is slowly fading. His mind tries to look for a reason to keep walking on loose jointed kneecaps.

_Eiji, Eiji, Eiji._

Right, _Eiji._

That's what he's looking for.

The dark haired, dark eyed yet bright smiling figure forms into Ash's head. The feeling of warmth blossoms through his body when he thinks of the Japanese boy with doe eyes and heavily accented English. Maybe that's what makes Ash's eyes water. Even with buckling knees and pain reeking through his body, he keeps moving. 

The way to the library is like muscle memory to him. He lets his feet wander to wherever his body wants to rest, it leads him to the big wooden doors and high ceilings of the public library that he grew up in. The sharp smell of old and well read books is oddly nostalgic. 

He collapses in the chair. It's not his normal chair though, it's Eiji's seat. He inhales through his mouth, only to feel the shockwave of pain that courses through his body. He chokes a gasp, it hurts, yes. But it's not fatal enough to kill him in minutes. The only way he can die is by blood loss, he can already feel the hot and sticky liquid spill out of him in a steady stream. 

His fumbling hands shakily yet gently grasp the papers that Eiji wrote to him. It's speckled with blood and snow, but Ash doesn't care. He reads it either way.

He lets out a weak chuckle when he reads Eiji's clumsy but ultimately adorable english (It's only endearing to Ash.) He laughs at how candour Eiji is, the coy yet sly words seem to be coming from the mouth of the writer himself. Ash can almost _hear_ Eiji's voice through the letter.

_I always wanted to protect you. Funny isn't it?_

Ash wants to yell, he wants to scream that it isn't funny. He wants to cry at the fact that somebody actually cares, cares _so much_ that they want to protect him. He wants and wants, is it selfish for him to want so badly? Does he deserve so? Eiji doesn't deserve this, he thinks. Eiji doesn't deserve the danger he puts him through.

_It's true, Ash. You can change your fate._

But is it? Ash thinks to himself in the moment of tears and overflowing emotions. How can he change something pre-destined? If he wanted, if he _tried_ he would fight fate itself for Eiji. He would climb the tallest of mountains, endure the harshest of weathers and kill everything that challenged Eiji's safety. But _fate?_ How could he go against something that always seemed to push him down farther and farther to the impossible.

He felt the warm sunlight hit his back. (This is for the best, he told himself. Eiji will be safe.) It was so surreal and _calm_. 

He felt his body grow heavier, his eyelids seemed like were like stone. He was falling unconscious. He was dying.

_You are not alone. My soul is always with you._

A wobbly smile formed on his lips. Tears staining and blurring the words on the paper, ruining it. He reread it, over and over and over again. He wasn't alone, even now, Eiji was still with him.

But he wasn't with Eiji.

Fate was fair unlike death, but even as the latter was about to sweep him off and deliver him to the next life, he still couldn't help but feel hopless. He wants to be selfish, he wants to change fate and be with Eiji even if his mind screams he can't.

_This is enough_ , he tells him self repeatedly. _This is enough_ even though his mind cries out otherwise. This isn't enough, it was never enough. He wants to be selfish, he wants to live--

Death was much kinder than Fate ever was to him.

  
  


《 _Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints--》_

  
  


Something's wrong. Something is _definitely_ wrong. Why you ask?

Ash wakes up.

The first thing he expects are the sterile white walls of a hospital room and the smell of antibiotics when he thrashes upwards from the stiff bed. Something is even more wrong when he wakes up and he's greeted with the exact opposite.

First, the bed is extremely soft, he's almost enveloped in its warmth and sunken in halfway by how weightless he feels. He's almost suffocated too by the quilt _and_ woolen duvet on top of him. Who even has 2 blankets in bed?!

Second is the almost blinding sunlight that hits his face. His head whips to the side to see that two walls of the bedroom were made of glass, showing the mesmerizing sight of the city skyline. Ash pushes himself up from the softness of the bed and the heavy weight of blankets to get a closer look outside the window. As he's getting up, his hand immediately goes to his side to clutch a non existent wound. 

His eyed widen marginally and gasp escapes his throat. He immediately lifts removes the beige jacket he has on and with shaky fingers, gently pries the fabric of his shirt. 

There wasn't even a scar, just unblemished pale skin stark against the sunlight. He lifts his head upwards to the window's view.

It looked like New York at first, the luminescent billboards and almost hundreds of skyscarpers made it seem like the city that never sleeps. Its snowing too.With it's narrow roads and bustling crowds, but this surely wasn't new york. Ash would know, he lived in the city most of his life, he memorized the paths and alleyways and little crooks and cranneys, he knew his city better than anyone else. His eyes darted to one of the billboards, words in another language, scrawls that reminded him of the letters Eiji would write when teaching him-

Japanese. Tokyo.

His stomach drops to his ankles, he is left aghast. What was happening? Was this heaven? Is this some cruel afterlife where the gods play with his inane fantasies?

His eyes wander across the room, they slowly rake themselves to the bedside table, a picture frame sits. It feels like his feet are chained, still, he walks to the table.

It's a picture of two men smiling widely at the camera. They're hands are on each other's waists, one of the men (with messy bed head hair that reminds him of a certain Japanese if not longer, his eyes are closed and there are tears streaming down his face) hold a peace sign. The other simply grins his other hand on his hip. They look happy.

Ash doesn't know them, although, he does sense familiarity with them. He feels _connected_ in some sick way. He scoffs, and sets the picture down with more force than necessary. 

A scent catches him off guard. Its warm and savory. Someone's cooking.

He immediately readies himself to fight. He slowly creeps his way out of the cold bedroom and into the narrow hallway (he guesses he's in an apartment. It feels like one). Along the hallway were more pictures, memories kept in frames, it's glass shining brightly from the sunlight. There are weddings, people and fireworks. Men dressed in white suits with flowers adorned in their hair. There were even a few sonograms on the walls. 

He didn't get the chance to really look at them all clearly. His senses were fixated on the sound of pots and pans clanking together and the fragrant savory aroma that rafted itself around the apartment. 

His movements were slow yet precise, like a leopard waiting to strike its prey. Without a sound, he made his way to the living area.

It was bright, really bright. With a fancy open skyroof that lit up the entire floor. Around the space were some potted and hanging plants, green and lively. The entire room seemed to breathe life and comfort, with the savory scent of food cooking to top it off. It made an unusual feeling stir in Ash's stomach. 

It was like coming home.

Padding out of the main living area he stops in his tracks. The kitchen is also basked in the same light that the rest of the apartment has but that isn't what makes him stop. It's the person who's currently using the kitchen. Blonde hair sawing slightly, his back is facing Ash. In his hand was a ladel.

It happened all too quickly. The moment his foot stepped into the vicinity the blonde man turned around. His hand, like lightning, grabbed the chef's knife by the counter and pointed it to his throat.

_He's fast. Too fast._

But his movements were all too similar. Ash ducked down and knocked the knife out of his hands. As it clattered onto the polished wood floors, neither of them moved, both knowing that if they tried to fight they would be cut down immediately. 

In that moment Ash got to look at his eyes, they were green, no,not green. _Jade._

"Who are you?" His voice was able to stutter out. It felt like he was staring into a mirror. The man looked at him with the same expression.

The man didn't reply at first. Instead, his eyes darted to his body, scanning him up and down like a laser printer. Ash felt ridiculously small under his gaze. 

After a momentary silence, the older man's shoulders fell. 

"You're me aren't you?" The man asked, a small almost humorous smile crawling up his face. His voice had the faintest sound of an accent, the _o_ and _u_ sounding light and airy. Ash's body went limp, his stiff stance dropping at his words.

"Is this some sort of sick joke? Am I dead?" His eyes turned downcasted to the floor. He found a sudden interest in his shoes.

"No, I'm just as alive as you are." The man had the audacity to laugh, it was soft, almost kind. "Listen, how about you sit down?" 

He gestured to the high chair by the breakfast bar. Ash reluctantly nodded, his shoes making squeaking sounds against the floor as he hesitantly sat down. 

The older man went back to the stove, hastily turning off the heat and reaching for one of the higher shelves for a mug. Filling it up with water, he set it down in front of the young gang boss. 

"Here, you look like you need it." 

Ash didn't take it though, prompting instead to glare at the taller blonde.

"Who are you." He asked again, this time more venom in his voice.

"You seriously don't get it huh?" The other said exasperatedly. "I already told you, I'm _you_ or atleast I think I am?" 

Ash scoffed. "Really? I would never wear something like that?" He pointed to the absurd apron the other wore. A pale pink fabric wrapped around his waist with white font saying _'kiss the cook'_ in delicate cursive. The other man's face tinted an aggressive red, quickly turning away to the side to hide it.

"Eiji bought it." He let out in a predatory growl. This time it was Ash's turn to laugh. After a few seconds of his momentary laughter, a pregnant pause filled the silence. It took atleast a minute before Ash's eyes widened again at the name. 

"Eiji?" He said in disbelief. The second he said that, the man's hardened green eyes seemed to soften, a small crease in the corner (laugh lines, his brain supplied). A fond smile graced his face. Ash's breath hitched at the unguarded expression the other man wore. He seemed so _happy_ at just the mere mention of Eiji's name.

(That's the look of a lovelorn man, someone who has something to live for.

Ash couldn't help but feel the ugly jealousy stir in his stomach.)

"You are me." He said breathlessly, the stiffness in his body evaporated, leaving him limp and weightless. He let out a prolonged sigh, the uneven feeling in his stomach subsiding. He turned his head upwards to look at the man who was supposedly the older version of him.

He still had those battle hardened soldier eyes, yet they seemed softer, kinder. His hair was tied back into a small low ponytail at the base of his neck. He had the air and presence of tranquility, basically _radiating_ happiness. 

"You're probably passed out in the library, yes?" His accent was more prominent now, the way his vowels curved and lifted off his tongue.

"Are you real? Are you sure I'm not dead?"

The older Ash only chuckled. "Hmm I am very much real. I'm not sure about you though, it's not everyday in japan where your younger self wakes up in your house and berates you." 

Ash only stayed quiet. There was no plausible explanation to this, no scientific or even logical answer his genius brain could provide. It all felt very real, from the smell of whatever older Ash (that sounds stupid, what should he call him?) was cooking to the smooth touch of the stone counter top. Was he dead? Or was this some sort of lucid dream that his mind desperately fabricated for the sake of giving him closure? Either way, it seemed like there was no other way to put it.

"Where's Eiji?" He asked older Ash-- no, _Aslan_. 

"He's with Ibe at some sorta fancy photography thing." He quipped fondly. His backside was facing Ash while he added multiple spices into whatever he was cooking. 

Another pause washed over them. The multiple sounds of pots being handled and spice shakers being used filled the empty void of silence. Ash was alone with his thoughts again.

He didn't feel dead. Maybe it was some off branded purgatory that forces people into watching their future lives when they're aware that they are dying. Even so, if that was the case, how come his was so peaceful? The older him seemed so relaxed and calm. 

Did everyone go like this? Did everyone get to see what they could've achieved? What about all the people he killed? Did they get to see this? Did they get to watch what could've happened to them, what kind of happiness they could've had if Ash didn't kill them? 

(How could he deserve this?

How could he have such a happy life when he robbed others of theirs? Did he really have a chance to begin with? Fate always did like to throw him under the bus).

Did he really get to live a life with Eiji in japan? In a world with no guns or violence, just him and calm days where his life wasn't constantly threatened.

This was a world beyond his reach, or so he thought.

"Hey old man." He called out, surprised at how sturdy his voice was. Aslan turned his head, the same jade eyes looking into his. It gave him a sense of deja vu.

"Do I-- do I really deserve this? Does this really happen?" It came out broken and hoarse. His hands started to ball into fists, shaking from the pent up emotions.

Aslan only stared at the shaking boy, so angry and filled with hate. The thought of how lonely he must be at the moment breaks his heart.

With a sigh, he walks away from the stove and to the fridge. He takes out a bowl covered in plastic wrap and shoves it inside the microwave. The sound of buttons and then the microwave fizzing to life muffles the quiet sobs that come out of Ash's mouth. 

"What are you-" 

He's cut off by a forceful slam on the counter. Aslan unwraps the plastic wrap on the bowl and slides it over to Ash without a second glance. He soon goes back to the fridge and searches for a carton of juice. He then ruffles through drawers to pick up silver utensils and places it down next to the dish.

Seconds later, a bowl of warm avocado and shrimp salad with a glass of cold lemonade awaits in front of him, almost alluring him to consume it. Ash sits with wide eyes as he stares absentmindedly at the bowl of food.

"Eiji made it. I was saving it for later but then I remembered how skinny I was as a teen." He gestures to the food on the counter with a sly grin. "Eat up." 

Ash slowly picks up the silver fork with shaking fingers. He cuts into the shrimp and avocado and shovels it in his mouth. One bite, then another, he doesn't even begin to notice the fat tears that start escaping his eyes and cascading down his cheeks. 

(Ash can't help but feel like a kid again. Eating his favorite food in the presence of an adult that actually seems to care for him. It feels relieving,

He feels _safe._ )

"I used to think like that too, when I first moved in with Eiji." Aslan had decided to take the seat in front of Ash. His arms folded across his chest, a gentle smile of his face. "I thought that, how could a sinner like me deserve all this good, after everything I've done. After everything that happened, I didn't want to live."

Ash doesn't say anything, he only continues to chew on the lettuce of his salad while listening to Aslan talk. 

"I was definitely annoying Eiji, but his polite asian manners wouldn't let him say anything bad against me." Aslan let out a light hearted chuckle, he fiddled with the ring on his finger (Ash's eyes can't help but drift to it, his face immediately blooms red at the sight.) "Until one day he finally blew up and yelled at me."

"I won't forget what he said. He told me that no matter what I did, it didn't mean I wasn't deserving of happiness." Aslan's focus was now entirely on the ring on his finger, his voice now impossibly fond. 

"No matter what I thought, Eiji would always tell me that I deserved all the happiness in the world. That every single good thing that happened to me was a gift because I fought so hard for it. There was never a moment that I couldn't be happy, it was always _I can because I deserve it._ " His voice had a slight wobble for it. "I don't know what I did in my past life to deserve someone who cared so much for me. He never left my side and he never stopped telling me everyday."

His eyes turned to look at Ash. The eyes of a jaded soldier. The eyes of someone far too young to have them. "It's hard right now, Ash. And it will always be hard for us, but don't ever give up. Because this is _real_ and you can have this." 

Ash takes a moment to breathe, the man in front of him looks at him with all the fondness in the world. Ash feels safe, he feels loved, he feels 

_Happy._

"Don't give up just yet Ash Lynx." Aslan says with a toothy grin. "There's still so much for you to do. There's still so many sights for you to see, people you've yet to meet and moments you have yet to experience." 

Aslan cradles his ring, he uses his thumb to circle it around his finger absentmindedly. He looks determined, a man who's lived his life to the fullest and looks content from what he has right now. Suddenly the pictures in the hallway start to make sense, they're memories he hasn't made yet. 

"You deserve happiness, but you need to fight for it. In the end, it'll all be worth it." 

Ash opens his mouth, he has a million questions he wants to ask. He wants to go back to the hallway with picture frames and memorize each and every one of them until they're burned into his skull. He wants, he wants so selfishly-

"Ash! _Tadaima!_ " 

The sound of the door opening reverberated across the apartment. Aslan's eyes darted up towards the hallway alarmingly fast, his face seemed to glow with life, a dorky smile plastered on his face.

Aslan pushed back the counter stool to meet the person by the door. His feet seemed to move like lightning as they made their way to the hallway.

Ash caught the sight of overgrown black hair that seemed to fly every direction. A nose dusted red from the cold snow outside, his face covered by the baby blue scarf wrapped around his neck. 

Aslan didn't even seem to notice that Ash was staring. He basically threw himself on the Japanese man and enveloped him in a hug. The two men let out a chain of giggles (for a moment they seemed like a set of two ridiculously infatuated teenagers in love.) They stood cradling each other's faces in their hands, staring into each other's eyes like they were the only person there.

" _Okaeri_ , Eiji." 

Ash felt like he was intruding on a private moment that he wasn't even supposed to see in the first place. The way they both held each other in their arms just radiated a sort of loving atmosphere that almost crushed Ash by its wholesomeness.

His body slowly started to feel heavier by the second. His eyelids dragging themselves down, begging to be closed. His shoulders sagging, the joints becoming loose screws.

He was going back. 

Panic surged within him. He had questions, things he still wanted to ask, pictures he wanted to see. He dragged his heavy body out of the high stool and shakily onto the wooden floorboards. His breathing was becoming more labored by the second, a massive pressure forcing itself on his chest.

He looks up as a desperate attempt to memorize these walls, the light that shines through the skyroof, the smell of an unfinished dish he was yet to taste, he looks up and--

He meets Eiji's eyes.

His breath is knocked out of him.

They're still the same mesmerizing dark oak brown he remembers, but they're framed with glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose. Ash wants to cry, he wants to scream and reach out. He lifts his hand to cry out and,

Eiji smiles at him.

He smiles at him so warmly that it's the last thing he sees when he wakes up again.

_《But we keep loving anyway._

_We laugh and we cry and we break and we make our mistakes》_

  
  


This time when Ash Lynx wakes up, he's back in the same grand library, the tall ceiling doesn't seem so tall anymore to him, maybe because he's grounded himself. 

The tear stained and blood spotted paper in front of him is blurry, the words are unfocused and his eyes can only make out one sentence.

_Its true, Ash. You can change your fate._

And this time, Ash believes him. 

" _Because this is_ real _and you can have this."_

He might be clinging on to a dead man's words right now, or the words of a man that doesn't actually exist. But even so, it gives him the strength, just enough to stand up despite the bleeding wound in his side. He gets up. 

He wants to see a future where he can be happy, he wants to believe that even though its hard at the moment, he can still be happy. He doesn't care if it's a pipe dream. He wants to _try._

He'll defy fate itself if he has to.

He gets up despite his aching joints and he walks to the reception desk at the library. Someone immediately lets out a scream when they see him, people instantly rush to him and start asking him questions. He doesn't have the strength to answer them though. 

It all blurs together. He hears ambulance sirens and the faint smell that only sterile hospitals have. And he thinks he made it, he's going to live.

Death maybe kinder than fate. But Ash Lynx never chooses the easy way.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Should i make a series?


End file.
